


Pull me by my Heart String

by therealpdiddy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Soulmates, M/M, One Shot, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 00:09:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20573219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealpdiddy/pseuds/therealpdiddy
Summary: Derek has a mating bond with Stiles that nobody knows about. When Stiles is attacked, he nearly dies on the operating table - until Derek pulls him back and solidifies a powerful soulbond.





	Pull me by my Heart String

**Author's Note:**

> I was tryna do a full fic, but I am the BIGGEST procrastinator on earth and one-shots are all you're getting. If you like it feel free to use it in your own fic but you better link me bitcchh. Enjoy.

Derek hadn’t slept in 3 days.

He sat in the worn, leathery armchair next to Stiles’ hospital bed, and watched his chest rise and fall with each breath. His eyes were bloodshot – and apt description – as all he’d been able to see was bright red blood seeping from his mates neck, over and over.

His mate. Stiles.

Guilt and shame washed over Derek as he stared at the lanky, freckled boy with his neck wrapped in gauze.   


* * *

It all started when Derek bought the house, after Stiles made him realize the pack needed a stable place to meet up.

“To train Derek! To hang out, to bond, to relax! Trust me this is gonna be the best decision you ever made, I’ll take care of everything.”

And so, Derek used a small portion of the Hale Family trust to purchase a modest craftsman home on the edge of the Beacon Hills reservation. The house was a fixer upper, but it was charming, and came with a working fireplace and hot running water, more comfort than Derek had been allowed in a very long time.

When the sale was finalised, and Derek took his first steps inside, he stared at the wooden floor boards and the bare rooms with trepidation.

But like a bright ball of sunlight, Stiles had bounced inside, rubbing shoulders with Derek on the way past, and announced in a loud, decisive voice that _all she needs is a little paint!_

A gross underestimation by anyone’s standards.

It seemed the first few weeks of pack bonding involved scrubbing the new house spotless and dragging in furniture. Stiles and Boyd helped him mop floors and dust cobwebs, opening all the windows so the house smelled like fresh air after the rain. Isaac and Stiles dropped in on a Thursday afternoon to hang pastel yellow curtains in every room, before darting off to lacrosse practice.

Derek and Stiles spent two solid days sanding down the wooden floorboards over the entire house and porch, and another three applying a rich chocolate stain.

Lydia wasn’t keen on cleaning or manual labour, and instead had a sand coloured bookshelf delivered in a flat pack. The instructions said 1 hour assembly, but the pack returned from a 2 hour run to find Derek and Stiles sweating over a half-finished shelf, Lydia stretched out, painting her nails a deep purple while reclined on the living room floor.

The bookshelf was joined later by a large charcoal sofa. Then, a second-hand dining table. Derek went all out on a flat-screen tv and entertainment set, and attempted to convince himself it was for personal use, not because it encouraged Stiles to come over more often.

Over a few short months, the house on the outskirts of the forest became more than a house. It was a home for Derek’s pack, a united meeting place, a safe haven. Having his pack over so often made Derek’s heart swell. Ever since the fire he’d been so alone, and now, he didn’t have to be. 

After a particularly grueling training session, Derek hopped up the back steps after the other wolves, and into a house that smelled like warm baked cinnamon rolls. Stiles was drizzling syrup over hot fresh dough, and commanding the room like he had eyes in the back of his head.

“Isaac, plates. Erica – the oven please. Scott, put that down it’s not for you. EVERYONE WASH YOUR PAWS AND SIT AT THE TABLE LIKE THE CONSIDERATE PUPS YOU WERE RAISED TO BE.”

Derek stood at the door and watched as everyone moved in sync, following Stiles’ direction almost immediately. Stiles looked so comfortable, so at home, so in control. Derek’s wolf stirred within him, ears perked.

_Mate? _It seemed to ask.

Derek should have shut down the thought. He should have built a brick wall around it, buried it within him.

But when he watched Stiles, with pink cheeks and ruffled hair, baking in Derek’s house (_their home – _his mind whispered at him) he was too weak to fight it. He let the warm feeling wrap around him as he joined the line to wash his hands, as Stiles sat beside him at the table, the stress of the evening melting away with every smile and laugh from the boy next to him.

He promised he would only allow himself this one night. One night to pretend. But Stiles was over more often than not.

To study. “It’s so quiet here it really helps me get in the zone.”

To cook. “My kitchen is nowhere near as big as this Derek, and if I want to make a homemade lasagne you KNOW I need the extra counter space.”

To sleep. “If you didn’t want me to take an afternoon nap on your couch you wouldn’t leave blankets out here Derek. You wanted this.”

One night turned into a week, and the week turned into a month, and before he knew it, Derek was in his true wolf form, looking up at the full moon.

And for the first time, it wasn’t anger that kept him steady.

It was the thought of Stiles - of his scent, his laugh, his goofy commentary, his pale skin and freckles - that held Derek firm to the earth, like a thick red thread that kept him from floating away. 

Derek knew he brought this curse upon himself. Stiles was in his senior year. He’d be considering colleges soon – packing his bag to get the hell out of Beacon Hills. And he could never ask Stiles to stay just for him.

Stiles could do better. And if Derek had to suffer the pain of an unrequited mating bond for Stiles to be happy, then he’d do it in a heartbeat.

* * *

But then the attack happened. All Derek could see was blood. His mates' blood, pouring from his neck through Scott’s slippery fingers.

His wolf pounded against the cage within him, desperate and feral, and it took all of Derek’s willpower not to pull Stiles’ limp body towards him. He doesn’t remember much after that. It’s a blur of panic, of action.

He’s sitting in the hospital waiting, hands and teeth clenched hard enough to snap, when Stiles’ heart stops.

He’s in theatre, and he’s lost too much blood. As Stiles’ heart stills, Derek’s picks up to an alarming rate.

His wolf, pacing back and forth moments before, is suddenly snarling and thrashing within him.

His mate is dead. His anchor is gone.

Derek feels the bond pulling, fading. A fierce, primal anger swells within him. Derek knows what happens when a mating bond is broken like this.

“A stolen bond,” he could hear his mother telling him, “is when a mate is killed, intentionally. It is the greatest crime of our people, because a stolen bond doesn’t just kill one person, it sentences the other to death as well.”

But Derek knows well enough that it’s not a simple death. Derek won’t die tonight, or tomorrow. Rather, his wolf will slowly take over his mind. Derek will go wild, rabid, until there is nothing but animal left. And when that day comes, he will attack anything in his way - a creature of senseless anger – until he is killed.

Derek reaches desperately within, grasping the thin red thread string that connects his soul to Stiles, and pulls as hard as he can.

_Please. Please don’t fucking die. I need you. Stiles come back to me._

Every fibre in his being aches, stretched thin. Derek’s mind is pure panic and desperation. 

And then the bond snaps into place.

As the thin red streak fades, a thick golden rope takes its place. It’s strong and steady, like the heartbeat that stutters back to life in the operating room.

Derek can hear his mate come back to life. He can hear it twice.

He picks it up through the walls, a heavy thudding that pulls him back down to earth.

And he can hear it within his very soul, thrumming down through the golden bond between them.


End file.
